A Helping Hand, Part Ii.
“Cecil,” he said.
“Cecil,” I said, extending my hand, “It was good to talk with you.”
He took my hand, “You, too.”
“And what’s your wife’s name?”
“Melissa.”
“Well, I hope she gets what she needs.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll see you around, Cecil.”
“Okay, then.” And he walked back across the parking lot.
When I drove around the back of the building, he saw me driving by and waved me over. He pointed to his car – parked over by a hotel – and said I could talk to Melissa if I wanted to verify his story. I told him that wasn’t necessary, and we waved good-bye.
And that’s the second part of my story.
My initial thoughts? I was kind of blown away by it all. I mean, I had hoped there was a reason for God’s waking me up so early, but I NEVER imagined something like this. It was surreal, really.
Contrary to what you might think, I wasn’t mad at him. I wasn’t really even hurt from the other night. I felt… compassion. The guy was obviously living out of his car. With a wife and possibly a child (whoever Angela is). And he’s found himself in a situation where he’s having to panhandle for money, probably just to feed himself and his family.
Suddenly, all the indignation that I felt because he didn’t use my $20 to buy gas immediately on Monday night… melted away. It has now occurred to me that there might have been other, more IMPORTANT things that he needed to buy.
But then why would he lie? Why would he say he went to Huntsville? (Which, it turns out, is down by Houston. A good 8 hours away. That would have been some marathon trip, driving down on Monday night only to make it back here by dawn on Wednesday.)
So on the one hand, I’m wary because he’s consistently lied to me and I don’t feel I can trust him. But on the other hand, I really want to do more to help him out. I actually drove around this morning (after dropping Kaleb off at Parent’s Day Out), looking for his car. I wanted to buy them breakfast. All of them. However many there were. I wanted to put them up in a hotel for a night or two, so they could rest. Take a shower. Whatever.
I don’t know how someone becomes homeless. I don’t. I’m skeptical because I think a lot of it comes down to pride. I’ve always believed that homeless people end up where they are not just from making poor decisions, but also because they didn’t want to ask for help from the people they needed to. The people they COULD have. Family, friends, government associations. A part of me thinks homeless people would rather live in squalor than humble themselves and admit to whomever that they were wrong, that they made a mistake.
Couldn’t he get a job somewhere? A construction job holding a sign, a Wienerschitzel mascot, a telemarketer. He’s obviously smart and capable. So what’s the deal?
I don’t want to be judgmental about it. I don’t want to make assumptions and fill in the blanks with my own creative mind. I want to believe that a person can make a better life for himself, given a second chance and an opportunity.
Someday I hope to find out. Lubbock’s a small town, and I think the chances are good that I’ll see him again. I want to get to know him, to cut through the barriers and help him.
More than anything, I just pray that he and Melissa find the answers they need. That they find God, and experience Him in a way they never knew was possible. And if God used my words or presence that morning to communicate something to Cecil, something I’m missing? Then I hope it sinks in. Because if this wasn’t a divine appointment, I don’t know what is.
Praying for His Will,
Kevin
P.S. On a side note, God let me sleep in until 7:00am this morning. And it felt WONDERFUL. Still, I plan to get up early next Wednesday. Just in case there’s someone I’m supposed to talk to.
The verse I read today:
Luke 6:38
“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”
Page 2 of 2 | Previous page